


Not Again

by CC_Writes_Stuff



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anger born of worry, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Divine Pulse, Divine Pulse Angst (Fire Emblem), Divine Pulse Deaths (Fire Emblem), F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, Mild Language, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), accidental love confession, no beta we die like Glenn, only not because of divine pulse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:35:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23296348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CC_Writes_Stuff/pseuds/CC_Writes_Stuff
Summary: During their latest battle at Merceus, Claude keeps dying. Byleth won't let that happen, won't let him die the same way her father died - even if it means sacrificing her own life. Claude isn't too happy with her choice.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 13
Kudos: 224





	Not Again

Byleth didn’t notice it.

She should’ve noticed it. She should’ve noticed the gleam of sunlight on a silver sword arcing through the air. She should’ve noticed the swordsman that had come up behind Claude, already engaged in a battle with a bow knight.

But she didn’t notice it. Not until it was a second too late.

Her father had always told her from a young age that in battle, speed was key. _You either have to be a half-second slower or your enemy has to be a half-second faster, and that could change the tides of a battle, save or end a life._ And she had been a second too late.

It played out in slow-motion. Claude’s verdant-green eyes widened as he realized the assassin’s presence, bow knight already dead. The twist of his body as he tried to dodge the attack. The vicious grin of the soldier as his mark struck home, the tip of his sword slashing at golden silk.

Blood. Horrible, disgusting, crimson-red blood ~~ _t_ _hesamecolorasMonica’shair_ ~~that arched out from Claude’s body, staining the tip of the assassin’s sword.

“Claude!” Byleth shouted, her sword already flaring out towards the archer. The blood-orange tip of it cut across his neck, and he let out a gurgled cry and fell. Claude hit the red-stained ground with a thud, his sword falling from his hands as blood started to seep out from the wound.

 _Healers,_ Byleth thought numbly as she dropped to the ground next to him, her hands already glowing with faith magic. She could use some white magic, but she wasn’t an expert; she couldn’t deal with a wound like this.

Claude coughed, crimson-red blood trickling down his lips as Byleth pressed her hands to his wound, trying to heal it. The sounds of battle faded around them, ebbing away, and all Byleth could focus on was Claude, here, in front of her, injured-

~~_-Her fault, she should’ve seen it coming-_ ~~

A cold pit of dread opened up in her stomach, a feeling she hadn’t felt since the day her dad died. Parallels, parallels that sent bile rising up Byleth’s throat. She could use Divine Pulse, turn back the clock and save him, but she had frozen, unable to move, to focus on anything other than the man in front of her.

“Sorry, Teach,” Claude managed to croak out, but a lopsided smile appeared on his face otherwise. Byleth didn’t like it; his voice was too weak, too cracked, to be smiling like that. His blood was warm and wet in her hands as she tried to stitch him back together, prayed that she didn’t need to use Divine Pulse. She had had to use it on him before, sure. Shove him out of the way of a wyvern’s claws, take down a mage that had sent him falling to the ground below, but… he was dying, in her arms. The crimson-red of his blood was a stark contrast to his verdant green eyes and golden silks.

“Don’t… don’t speak,” Byleth managed to croak out, barely able to find the words to speak. “Come on, Claude, stay with me, please, don't you dare die on me.”

A flicker of hurt, of guilt, flashed in his eyes as he looked up at her. “Sorry,” he said again, the smile flickering. “Sorry I… can’t be at... be at your side…”

His eyes fluttered shut as he trailed off, his last few words a jumbled mutter, and he lay still underneath Byleth’s hands, still smiling weakly.

“Dammit, Claude, open your eyes!” Byleth pleaded, shaking him, urging her magic to work faster, but he was limp in her arms. Something wet streamed down her face; was she crying?

She squeezed her hand shut, and time froze, vision fading from deathly crimson-red to soothing purple. Time shattered, sounding like glass in Byleth’s ears as she turned back the clock.

It moved backward, people floating around her like apparitions as she did so, unaware of what she was doing. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Byleth stood up and picked up her sword again, although it felt too heavy in her hands, and her knees felt too weak to keep her up, shaking like a leaf. Her hands still felt wet, even as the blood fizzled out as she turned back the clock.

Byleth tugged at the strings of time until the assassin was far enough away from Claude, far enough where she could attack. Then, like a puppet master cutting the strings, she let go, and the world shattered. The sounds of battle came rushing in again as Byleth let go of her grasp on time, and the assassin was already running towards Claude as he himself slashed out at the bow knight he had been fighting.

Fire raced up Byleth’s hand as she unlinked the Sword of the Creator, slashing it out towards the assassin. The segments of it rattled like teeth and glowed a horrible bloody-red color as it unwound, striking the assassin in the chest. He let out a gurgled cry and dropped again.

Her gaze snapped to Claude, taking a step to the side as the bow knight fell, before looking in the direction of the assassin. Of Byleth. He gave a tired smile and a thumbs-up, a wink.

“Thanks, Teach,” he said, voice strained. Byleth nodded, unable to find her voice.

Then, Claude’s eyes widened, and he bolted towards Byleth. She didn’t have time to react before he body-slammed into her, sending her tumbling to the ground with a thud and tasting dirt. There was another thud, too.

Byleth shot up into a sitting position, and for the second time that day, a pit of cold dread opened up in her stomach. Claude was lying in front of her, an arrow sticking from his chest, and he was gasping for breath.

Her gaze snapped to the side, and she saw an archer hiding behind a stone wall, already nocking another arrow. Byleth didn’t think twice, and she broke the flow of time. She couldn’t bear to see the light leave his eyes once more, and the world shattered again as she bent it to her will.

This time, she pulled it back further, past the archer and the assassin and the bow knight, until Byleth felt warm blood trickling down her nose. It was only then did she release her grip on it.

When she did so, she was in a different spot than before, away from the archer and the assassin. Hopefully, it would be enough. Enough to keep him alive.

Like a dam breaking, the world rushed back, the impact of it leaving Byleth dizzy, but she refused to fall. Her eyes darted to Claude - still standing and holding his own against a brawler - before the surrounding area.

She picked off the archer, first, tasting electricity in her mouth when she fried him to a crisp with Thunder.

The bow knight was next, with her bow already raised against Claude; the woman's scream of pain didn’t even register in Byleth’s ears.

After her, the assassin, close enough to where Byleth could cleave him in two with the Sword of the Creator.

Byleth sighed as she looked around, all potential short-term enemies eliminated. Claude was catching his breath as Byleth scanned the area, looking for a healer or any of the Deer, just in case.

Many of them were making their way through Merceus, towards the death knight, Ashe raining down arrows from his wyvern above. In the distance, the Almyran forces were tearing through the Imperial soldiers in the north.

“How are you doing, Teach?” Claude asked her as he walked over to her, wiping his forehead, verdant eyes bright with life. There was a splatter of blood on his cheek, and his clothes were dirty, torn, bloody, but he was there, in front of her, alive. 

“Good,” Byleth managed to croak out, unable to say anything more without giving it all away. Claude frowned; concern marred his eyes, but he didn’t say anything, just nodded.

“Come on, let’s get back-”

He never got a chance to finish that sentence; a shout cuts him off, and they look to the side. Byleth’s breath catches in her throat as she sees a handaxe whirling through the air.

 _No, not again,_ Byleth thinks numbly, her eyes following the ax to see it embedded itself into Claude’s chest, the force of it sending him staggering backward. A flare of anger spikes in Byleth’s chest, and she spins on her heel, the Sword of the Creator lashing out towards the soldier who threw it.

The soldier, dressed in crimson red the same color as Monica’s hair. The Sword of the Creator, stained red with the blood of her enemies as it flies towards him. The arc of crimson-red blood as her sword hits its mark.

The soldier hadn’t even hit the ground before Byleth dropped down on the ground next to Claude. He was looking at her with wide eyes, and Byleth almost broke down when she saw the fear in them. The look of surprise on them. Blood seeped out from his wound, staining his silk clothes red.

 _I’m sorry,_ Byleth thinks but can’t say. _Three times I’ve let you die._

Sothis’ words echoed in her mind; _You can’t change fate._

 _No_ , no, no, she won’t let him die, not now, not like her father. She can’t. She _will_ protect him this time.

Byleth snaps her hands shut, the world shattering in her gaze, and she tastes blood in her mouth, feels like her head is going to split. She’s already used it three times in the past five minutes, not to mention the other times she used it earlier.

Her head was spinning when she let go of her grasp on time, and her gaze snapped to the side; the brawler already had his arm raised back, ready to throw. She wouldn’t be fast enough to strike back at him.

Before she fully realized what she was doing, Byleth darted forward, slamming into Claude with all the strength she could muster.

Pain blossomed in her abdomen as the ax slammed into it, sending her tumbling back into the ground. Her side hit the ground, and more pain blossomed in her side, and she tumbled over herself until she stopped, the sky swimming above her and dotted with fliers and white clouds.

“Byleth!” Claude cried out as Byleth’s vision went grey, then black, cotton being stuffed in her ears. Her side burned, blood dripping down her skin, warm and wet and sticky.

There was a muffled cry as the rest of the sounds of battle faded in a dull chatter, like she was listening to it underwater. She tried to blink her eyes open, and a hazy figure was running towards her. There were sounds in her ears, echoing and dull and incoherent. Her ears were ringing, and she felt something press onto her side. Pain flared in her side, and she gasped.

Slowly, her vision became less blurry, and she found herself looking into a pair of worried verdant-green eyes.

“-eth. Byleth!” The person - Claude - said, fear in his voice. Worry was marred in his eyes as he shook her, voice fading in and out as he spoke to her. “Byleth, can you hear me?”

Byleth blinked, trying to keep his face in focus, to see if he was alright. But even that took too much effort, and her eyes closed. Her voice came out weak, frail; “Are you okay? Did… did you get hit?”

Claude was silent for a moment, and she tried to open her eyes again, but it was still difficult, and she failed in such a simple task. Then, she felt his hand on her cheek as he shook her.

“I… I’m fine, Byleth, but.. open your damn eyes, please!” He said, voice cracking and raised an octave. “Come on, stay with me, Byleth, please, I… I can’t lose you again. Open your fucking eyes!”

It took all of Byleth’s energy to crack one eye open to look at Claude, still out-of-focus, eyes bright with worry and fear and guilt and anger.

“I’m not… going anywhere…” That was all she could get out before the world slipped out of her grasp.

*** * ***

When Byleth woke again, it was like walking through a haze or a dream.

The first thing she felt was a dull ache in her side, and she dimly recalled the ax she had taken to her side. It must’ve been nastier than she thought; even just opening her eyes felt difficult. The next thing she felt was something warm wrapped around her hand, something warm and calloused that rubbed circles into her palm. The third thing she felt - no, heard - were words. Someone was speaking, softly, quietly, fervently.

“Come on, Byleth, wake up,” the person said, voice trembling. That voice… she knew that voice. But her mind was hazy, unclear. Who did that voice belong to? “Please, wake up, Byleth… I can’t lose you. Please, open your damn eyes. I just got her back, please, don’t go again.”

The person continued speaking, but what left his mouth were words in a language she didn’t know, but it felt… Beautiful. Pretty. But Byleth wasn’t able to understand what they were saying, however; they all jumbled together.

Byleth tried to think through her dream-like state, recall the events that last happened, but everything felt muddled. The ax… she had taken an ax to the side, right to her abdomen. It still throbbed, now, and had clearly been the thing that sent her here... wherever 'here' was. But… didn’t she take an ax for someone? She couldn’t recall; it was all she could do to stay in this half-awake daze, head aching.

More speaking, back in common Fódlanese, brought Byleth back to the present, to her dim awareness of the world around her.

“Come on, Byleth, you… you’re not going to leave me, right? You said-“ The person’s voice cracked, and for some reason, Byleth felt her own unbeating heart crack, too- “You said you wouldn’t leave me. You promised me. Please, Byleth, open your eyes. I can’t lose you again. Bring her back, please.”

Something wet dropped onto her hand; _a tear,_ she realized numbly. Someone was crying; the person holding her hand, perhaps?

Her first thought was her father; he had done this once before as a teen, nearly giving her life to save her partner at the time. Jeralt didn’t keep his eyes off her for the next two months. As far as Byleth knew, when she awoke, it was one of the only few times he had hugged her, too.

But no, her father was dead; so who was rubbing her hand and talking like they were praying?

The man was speaking again in that strange tongue, and it dawned on Byleth that she had heard people speaking it before. Swordsmen and merchants and travelers had taught bits and pieces of it to her, most of which she had forgotten by the time she came to Garreg Mach, but she knew the structure, the syntax, even a scarce few words. It was Almyran. And who did she know that was Almyran? There was Cyril, Nadim from the mercenary group, and...

_Claude._

Dimly, the events of the last battle floated to Byleth’s head. The chaos at Merceus, the Almyran forces in the distance. The Death Knight in the middle of the fort. The three soldiers that had killed Claude; assassin, sniper, brawler with a hand ax. The splitting of her head and the world in reverse as she used Divine Pulse.

Her desperate attempt to save Claude, to change fate, and she took the hand ax meant for him.

 _Was he… was he_ praying _for her?_

Byleth knew Claude had never believed much in Gods or miracles or fate. But… if he was praying, then… she must’ve scared him. She must’ve scared him, bad. Why else would he be praying?

In a desperate attempt to comfort him, Byleth struggled to move or open or her eyes or give him some sign she was alive. She tried to crawl her way out of the haze she felt, to wake up and figure out what the hell happened.

Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing a room tinted with orange. Byleth looked down, saw bandaged, tan hands wrapped around her own pale one. She followed it up a muscular arm and a torn, dirty shirt sleeve, broad shoulders, a bloody cravat thrown over said shoulders, to tear-stained cheeks and verdant green eyes, chapped lips that turned upwards into a smile.

“Byleth,” Claude said softly, voice coming out in a whisper like some sort of prayer on its own. Then he choked out a sob, his eyes fluttering shut as he lifted her arm up, just slightly. “Thank the gods you’re awake.”

She groaned, trying to look around the room, find out where she was, but a jolt of pain went through her head, and she settled for keeping her gaze on Claude’s face. When she spoke, her mouth was dry, and her tongue felt too big in her mouth, throat raspy. “...Where…?”

“Myriddon,” Claude replied, his eyes opening as he looked back to her once more, verdant green eyes betraying the pain he was trying to hide with a smile. “It’s been a day since Merceus.”

A day? It felt like much longer. But the roar of the battle, the smell of smoke in the air, was slowly coming to her mind, caked in unconsciousness and muddled.

“The others?” Her voice cracked, the words as thick as molasses. “Did… did we win?”

“They’re fine, my friend. A little worse for wear, but they’re fine,” Claude told her, still rubbing circles into her hand. “And as for the battle… we won, but… it doesn’t feel that way.”

He sucked in a breath, let it out, and continued, voice quiet and shaky.

“The fort… after we defeated the Death Knight, he… he managed to escape. And just bare seconds later, it… it was d-destroyed.”

_Destroyed? What did he mean?_

“Destroyed? What do you mean?”

“These… things… Everyone keeps calling them Javelins of Light… they just came down from the sky and destroyed the fort… there’s almost nothing left.”

Claude tried to smile, to keep her spirits up, probably, but they both knew it was fake and broken. The look on his face made Byleth’s chest clench. There were bags around his eyes, like he hadn’t slept in days, and they were red, too. Tear streaks were on his cheeks, clearly visible amongst all the dirt on them. He had a cracked smile on his face, full of pain. But what hurt worse was seeing his eyes.

Usually, Claude’s eyes betrayed nothing of what he was thinking, were just another part of the mask he wore around others, always gleaming with a new scheme or plan or strategy. Now, though, those verdant-green orbs that Byleth had fought so hard to keep the life in were full of fear, desperation, sadness. They replaced what he usually wore, shattered the mask he always had on, and there were no lies or schemes in them. Just pure, real honesty and fear and something else, something Byleth couldn’t name.

“I’m sorry,” Byleth whispered, giving his hand a light squeeze, not quite sure what she was saying sorry for; for the destroyed fort? For her injury? For Claude’s sadness and - as she looked into his eyes - his fear?

“It’s not your fault, By,” Claude said quietly, his gaze still not leaving her face. “It’s not… it’s not your fault it was destroyed.” Then his brows furrowed, something akin to anger flashing in his eyes, and he looked like he wanted to say something else. Instead, he just let out a breath and turned to the side. Byleth followed his gaze to see him reaching for a glass of water with one hand, the other still holding hers and rubbing circles into the back of her hand. His touch was warm, feather-light, and Byleth realized he wasn’t wearing his gloves or any of his usual regalia; just a torn cream shirt, cravat and brown trousers.

“You should drink something,” Claude said, his gaze flicking back to her, marred with worry. “Can you sit up?”

“Don’t know,” Byleth grunted, glancing down to her abdomen, but the blankets covered the better part of her torso. “Still hurts.”

Claude nodded. “Alright,” he said, voice still wavering, and he moved his hand away from the glass of water as he turned back to her. Gently, he nudged said hand under her back, and slowly lifted her back up.

A spike of pain rushed through her abdomen at the movement, and Byleth hissed, curling her fingers around Claude’s hand. He paused, worry on his face, and muttered an apology under his breath.

“It’s fine,” Byleth breathed, sucking in a breath through her nose and trying to fight the wave of nausea that ran over her. “Slowly, please.”

Claude did so again, continuing to lift Byleth up and pausing whenever more pain flared in her abdomen until her back was resting on the headboard. Byleth took a few minutes to just fight through the pain until the pain dulled back down to a light throbbing, and she let out a breath.

“Thanks,” She said, glancing at Claude again. A worried, cracked smile flicked across his face.

“No problem, my friend,” He replied, before turning to the side and actually grabbing the glass of water that time. With all the energy she could muster, Byleth lifted her hands up to take it, wincing inwardly at the loss of contact with Claude’s hand. The glass was wet when she wrapped her hands around it, but Claude still kept one hand on it, in case she dropped it or it slipped from her hand. When she drank it, it was like a flood in her mouth, cold and refreshing. Byleth drank until the glass was empty.

“Better?” Claude asked her, taking the glass from her and setting it on the table next to them. Byleth nodded.

“Yeah…” She replied, searching for Claude’s hand again. When she found it, his fingers curled around her, and Byleth let out a sigh, closed her eyes.

“How are you feeling, my friend? Do you need me to get anything?”

Byleth gulped, swallowing the lump in her throat. Her head was throbbing from using Divine Pulse so many times in a row, and her side ached, but… it could be worse. But she was famished.

“Food,” She replied with a short nod. “I’m starving.”

Claude nodded, before reaching over and brushing a strand of hair in-between Byleth’s nose out of her face with the utmost care, hand traveling from her forehead down to back behind her ear. The touch was feather-light, but it left Byleth with shivers running down her spine as she opened her eyes up again to look at him.

Byleth drank him in for a moment, looking at the chiseled jaw and broad shoulders, the beard he had grown sometime in the last five years, the strand of hair that used to be his braid falling in front of his face. The warming, golden rays of the fading sunlight matched the tan of his skin, making him look like he stepped out of some storybook or legend, and the way it shone made his verdant green eyes sparkle. Her first thought?

He was handsome as _fuck_. 

She felt her ears and cheeks warmed at the thought, and Byleth hurriedly looked away before she thought of anything further or the image of him laying in front of her, bloody and dying.

“I’ll go get you some,” Claude said after a moment, voice quiet in the silence of the room as he closed his eyes, briefly. Then he looked back up at her, eyebrows still furrowed. “Any preferences?”

“Meat,” Byleth told him. Claude chuckled.

“You are so consistent,” He said, the briefest smile flashing on his face, before he gave her hand another squeeze. “Alright, I’ll be right back.”

Claude stood up, letting go of Byleth’s hand, and his footsteps thudded on the wood of the floor as he turned and left, only pausing to cast one more forlorn glance over his shoulder at her.

*** * ***

Recovery went by slowly, a lot more slowly than Byleth would’ve liked. Most of her days were spent just doing reports, fishing, and planning for the army’s attack on Enbarr, at least until she could get back to training. The days felt ridiculously long, and not in the good way, like Sundays had been when she was teaching. And there was no easy way to pass it, either, since most of the Deer were preparing for the attack. She had no time to visit Claude, either, swamped with all sorts of stuff she needed to do.

At least, not until a few days later, when Claude had pulled her off to the side after the latest war meeting had ended.

“Can we talk?” He asked her, a smile on his face, but his eyes betrayed the worry Claude felt. Byleth frowned when he saw it; was he worried about the attack? Since she had started walking around again, Claude had been preparing non-stop for it.

“Sure,” Byleth replied with a nod, her eyes sliding to the rest of the Deer and knights as they filled out. Only Hilda lingered for a brief moment, a knowing smile on her face as she looked between Claude and Byleth. _What was that look for?_

Byleth shook it off and looked back to Claude, who looked… lost in thought. Brow furrowed, nose crinkled up. Frown deepening, Byleth poked him in the cheek. He startled, before looking at her, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Do you want some tea?”

Claude blinked, before another small smile appeared on his face.

“Ah, let me host you today, my friend,” Claude stated, winking at her, before giving an exaggerated bow. Byleth rolled her eyes, but felt a smile appearing on her face nonetheless as Claude straightened up again. “You’re always hosting us, but not today. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Byleth replied with a nod. “Lead the way, von Reigan.”

Verdant green eyes met mint-green ones, but that something from before flashed again, flashed with a mix of worry, and the smile on his face dropped, just for a moment. Before Byleth could question it, however, Claude made a dramatic sweeping pose as he walked out of the room. The upper floor was filled with chatter from the knights as they prepared for their attack on Enbarr. Messengers ran to and fro, and everyone was abuzz with chatter as they tried to figure out what these javelins of light were.

“How’s the plan coming along?” Byleth asked as the two of them walked down the hallway, past the knights. Claude sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Slow. Enbarr isn’t going to be easy to conquer, that’s for sure. That’s why I’m really hoping you’ll feel better by the time we attack at the end of this month.”

Byleth nodded, curious as to what he wanted to talk about at the moment, and she thought back to the worry she saw in his eyes the other day. Was it something to do with Enbarr? It had to be.

Claude led her down the stairs and past the training grounds, across the dorms, up to the second floor, and over to his room. With each step, however, Byleth noticed how he seemed to be becoming more… tense. His shoulders squared, and his smile tightened. She wanted to ask if anything was wrong, but she knew Claude, and she knew he wouldn’t tell her if she just asked. Byleth had learned to be patient with him, learned that he would tell her whatever was on his mind eventually.

As they walked, Claude kept up a steady stream of chatter that turned silent once they entered his room, and Byleth frowned; the tea set was in her room. Was he just grabbing something from his?

“What are we having today, Master Tactician?” Byleth asked him as he walked over to his desk, and Claude groaned.

“Please don’t call me that, Teach,” he replied as he opened up a top-desk drawer. “It’s bad enough Judith keeps calling me boy and Nader calls me kiddo when I'm the leader of the Alliance.”

Despite herself, she felt a smile appear on her face. “You have a nickname for me; what am I supposed to call you, Duke?”

“Well, considering the fact that I am the leader of the Leicester Alliance, technically, you should be addressing me as Duke Reigan, since you’re just a teacher, Teach.”

Byleth frowned, tapping her finger on her chin as Claude pulled out a small pouch from the drawer. She didn’t have a chance to get much more than that, however, for he hurriedly put it in one of his hidden pockets.

“Technically, since I am the acting Archbishop, I think that means I have more authority over you, Claude,” She replied with a playful smile his way. Claude made a noise of mock affront, putting his hand to his chest.

“Oh, so that’s why you took the position, huh?” He asked jokingly, raising one eyebrow as he walked over to her. “Because you wanted to keep your position of authority, and you couldn’t do that as a teacher?”

Byleth smiled, and gave a grand bow - or, at least, a grand a bow as she could give without further injuring her wound.

“Claude von Reigan, Duke of the Leicester Alliance, I, Byleth Eisner, the acting Archbishop of the Church of Serios, order you to go get me a cherry pie.”

That made Claude laugh, a soft, charming smile that Byleth though she might die to hear again. (She tried not to think about how she almost did). He walked over to her, put a hand around her shoulders.

“You know, if you wanted a cherry pie, you just had to ask; I would’ve happily gotten one for you, my friend,” he said, starting down the hallway again. “You shouldn’t be moving around too much with your injury; it’s still healing, right?”

If Byleth wasn’t paying attention or known Claude as well as she did, she would’ve missed the hint of fear, of guilt, in his voice. Byleth felt her stomach twist at that; she didn’t mean to worry Claude the way she did.

“It’s not that bad, now,” Byleth replied, glancing down at her side, before looking up at Claude again. “Manuela says I can start training tomorrow, as long as I take it easy.”

A shaky smile appeared on Claude’s lips as he looked at her again, before disappearing briefly, and at this distance, Byleth could see the shadows under his eyes. When he did speak again, at Byleth’s room, his voice was quiet, shaking.

“It was bad, though.” Claude’s voice was barely more than a whisper, a sharp contrast to the hard lines of his face after the door shut behind them. “You… You didn’t see the blood.”

Byleth blinked as he turned to face her, and startled when he pulled her into a hug of all things. It was vaguely reminiscent of the hug he had given her after she woke from her slumber a few months back, holding her close to him, like she might disappear when he let go of her.

Unsure of what quite to do here, Byleth slowly reached up and grasped the fabric of Claude’s shirt. She recalled the words he had been saying when she first woke up from her haze, the tear she had felt on her hand.

“I’m alright now, Claude,” She said, but that didn’t seem to help. Instead, it only seemed to anger him some.

“But what if you weren’t?!” He snapped, probably a little more harshly than he intended to, taking a step back from Byleth and gripping her shoulders. Claude’s voice was strained, and she could see tears forming in the corner of his eyes as he continued to speak.

“You almost died, Byleth! Do you know how fucking stupid that was, almost getting yourself killed to save me?! You damn near got cleaved in two and almost gave me a heart attack!”bClaude let go of her shoulders then and started pacing, tugging a hand through his hair as he did so, breathing heavily.

Byleth wanted to say something, to comfort him, but… what could she say? _I’d already seen you die three times and I couldn’t let it happen again?_ The last person she wanted to find out about her power was him.

“I was just trying to-”

“Protect me, I get that,” he said, voice strained as he squeezed his eyes shut. “But you- you- you could’ve died, why would you do something so stupidly heroic?! What were you thinking?! Were you even thinking?!”

“I was thinking I couldn’t let you die,” Byleth said, but her words felt flimsy and frail in her mouth. So she took a step towards Claude, grasped his wrist, hoping to… hoping to what?

“And I can’t let you die either, Byleth,” Claude said, voice sounding impossibly small for someone of his size and stature and position. It sounded all too much what he was saying to her when he died the first time around. “You promised me you weren’t going to leave again.”

“And I’m not,” Byleth said with all the confidence she could muster. But how was she to know that? How was she to know when her power ran out, when she wouldn’t be able to save herself like the first night she met the three heirs?

Claude seemed to know this, too, fear flashing in his eyes as he looked at her, hand clenched into a fist.

“You don’t know that,” He replied, voice bitter and sharp. “This is a fucking war, Byleth, and we put our lives on the line every time we step out onto the battlefield. And you can’t promise that if you keep pulling stunts like that and almost get yourself killed!”

Then Claude sucked in a breath, then, and closed his eyes, shoulders hunching.

“Do you know how fucking _scared_ I was, my friend?” It was a quiet admission, full of raw, truthful honesty from him, something Byleth thought she had heard in all of the time she knew the charming leader. But Byleth’s chest twisted, heart aching. She didn’t mean to make him worry like that.

“Claude, I-”

Either Claude didn’t hear her or he didn’t care, because he kept talking, although at that point it was more of a nervous rambling as his eyes darted all around and his hand grabbed hers, started rubbing circles on her hand again.

“I was fucking terrified for you, Byleth, when I saw you like that- there was so much blood, I thought for a moment that you died, that I lost you again and I was just panicking and couldn’t think straight, and... and-" he paused, sighed, shook his head. "I love you and I couldn’t bear the thought of you fucking dying like that while trying to protect me and-”

Whatever he said next was lost as Byleth zoomed in on three words, while everything else tuned out: _I love you._

Byleth felt something warm race up her spine when she turned the words over in her mind, looking up at Claude who still hadn’t realized his slip-up, still ranting, but the rest of his words were lost to her. It hit her with sudden clarity, and Byleth was angry at herself for not seeing it earlier.

Claude loved her.

Byleth had known for some period of time that Claude felt… comfortable, for lack of a better word, around her. She had felt the same; whenever she was having a bad day, she had found herself seeking him out, to train or talk or to just be in the same space as him. Claude had done the same thing, often leaving them falling asleep in her room or the Cardinal's room after hours upon hours of strategizing and planning. He was always watching her back on the battlefield, always finding himself a little more close to her at the end of their meet than the beginning, and he was always helping her out with just the smallest things; getting treats she wanted or sharing another story with her or even cutting her hair.

By that point, Claude had gone uncharismatically silent, and it was that that had brought back into the present. He was looking at her, almost mortified, with cheeks scarlet red, jaw opening, and closing. _He must’ve realized what he said,_ Byleth thought numbly.

“Did… did I just…?” He started, but for once, seemed speechless, and trailed off, looking away, and rubbed the back of his neck with his other hand. “...I-I don’t know what I was thinking, I didn’t mean… I need to go.”

Claude moved away, towards Byleth’s door, but she tightened her grip on his wrist, just slightly, in a desperate attempt to keep him close to her. Claude froze in his tracks, cast a slow glance over his shoulder at her, Adam’s apple bobbing. A look of fear was on his face, walls down, masked shattered.

“I’m sorry I made you worry, Claude,” Byleth said, pulling him forward and into another hug. He stumbled against her and was frozen for a moment, and Byleth could feel the tenseness of his muscles under his shirt as she wrapped her hands around him, trying to figure out what this feeling in her chest was. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

After a brief pause - in which Byleth thought he was going to pull back - Claude wrapped his hands around her again, lowering his head to rest his chin on the top of hers. One hand grabbed her shirt, and the other went up to her head, and he started combing his fingers through her hair.

“Please don’t ever do something like that again, Byleth,” Claude said, voice small and cracked and full of emotion. “Promise me you won’t. I can’t-” He paused to choke out a sob, his grip around her tightening- “I can’t lose you again.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Byleth vowed. “As long as you promise me you won’t die, either.”

“I’m not, my friend,” he replied. _My friend._ How much weight those words carried now, when they both know what he had said just seconds ago. “I still want to see my dream achieved, and I want you there to see it. I want you by my side when it comes true.”

Byleth couldn’t keep a hint of teasing from her voice when she turned her head to face him better, his beard tickling her cheek. “Is that a love confession, Claude?”

A nervous chuckle escaped Claude’s lips. “Got to be better than my, uh… my little slip-up, r-right?”

Something swelled in Byleth’s chest at that, and she giggled. “It’s perfect,” she said quietly, before pressing a light kiss to his cheek. Claude stiffened at that, before letting out a sigh.

“Since the cat’s out of the bag… I love you, Byleth,” Claude whispered, pulling back a little just to look at her. Byleth thought she might die to see the dazzling smile that was on his face. “God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Claude,” she replied, resting her head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat thudding in his chest, and she knew that whatever it was she felt in her chest at that moment was love.

**Author's Note:**

> When you're deprived of new content so you make your own:


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